love that always hurts a little

Sometimes I think about how this loving,
this intense, heartpang of a love
this: love that catches in my throat
love that fills my belly 
love that makes me want to toss my arms in the air 
exists amidst the possibility of loss,

inches, mere inches 

but then I think about someday,
when we face real Love, face to face
without the possibility of loss
what will it feel like then?

open and free, like running barefoot in a field
uninhibited, like - drunk on wine and nothing to lose
untangled
unafraid, love? 

love that doesn't always hurt a little

I've never thought about how
I don't even know what that feels like

I only know the kind of love that tiptoes carefully
a heart held, precisely
as delicate glass 
constantly afraid of being fragmented
by this fallen world,
weeping and bruised and angry

but allow yourself the grace

to just think about
feeling love in all its wholeness
the kind that won't crack or sting or teeter
a wholeness only lush and sweet and safe

I'll hold onto love now, with tender caution
hoping love won't break me
letting it drive out my fear by
considering the someday promise
that we'll enter into wholeness